My name is Billy Evans. I
am a very sick little boy.
My mother is typing this for me,
because I can't. She is crying. The reason she is so sad is because
I'm so sick. I was born without a body.
It doesn't hurt, except when I try to
breathe. The doctors gave me an artificial body. It is a burlap bag
filled with leaves. The doctors said that was the best they could do
on account of us having no money or insurance. I would like to have a
body transplant, but we need more money.
Mommy doesn't work because she said
nobody hires crying people. I said, "Don't cry, Mommy," and
she hugged my burlap bag. Mommy always gives me hugs, even though
she's allergic to burlap and it makes her sneeze and chafes her real
bad.
I hope you will help me. You can help
me if you forward this email to everyone you know. Forward it to
people you don't know, too. Dr. Johansen said that for every person
you forward this email to, Bill Gates will team up with AOL and send a
nickel to! ! NASA.
With that funding, NASA will collect
prayers from school children all over America and have the astronauts
take them up into space so that the angels can hear them better. Then
they will come back to earth and go to the Pope, and he will take up a
collection in church and send all the money to the doctors. The
doctors could help me get better then.
Maybe one day I will be able to play
baseball. Right now I can only be third base.
Every time you forward this letter,
the astronauts can take more prayers to the angels and my dream will
be closer to coming true.
Please help me. Mommy is so sad, and
I want a body. I don't want my leaves to rot before I turn ten. If you
don't forward this email, that's okay.
Mommy says you're a mean and
heartless nasty person who doesn't care about a poor little boy with
only a head. She says that if you don't stew in the raw pit of your
own guilt-ridden stomach, she hopes you die a long slow horrible death
and then burn forever in hell.
What kind of cruel person are you
that you can't take five minutes to forward this to all your friends
so that they can feel guilt and shame about ignoring a poor, bodiless
nine-year-old boy?
Please help me. I try to be happy,
but it's hard.
I wish I had a kitty.
I wish I could hold a kitty.
I wish I could hold a kitty that
wouldn't chew on me and try to bury its poo in the leaves of my burlap
body. I wish that very much.
Thank You,
Billy "Smiley" Evans
Submitted by Julie, Middleburg,
Va.
